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Flog the pros: John Locke

Today the flogee is the opening of a book by a
self-published author. Is he a pro? Well, the definition of “professional” is
“one that engages in a particular pursuit, study, or science for gain or
livelihood.” John Locke most definitely has done that.

He is the first self-published author to hit #1 on the
Amazon/Kindle Best Seller’s List. He is a New York Times best-selling author.
In the first 5 months of 2011 he sold more than 1,100,000 ebooks.

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type, etc.) there should be about 16 or 17 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page). Directions for submissions are below.

A word about the line-editing in these posts: it’s “one-pass” editing, and I don’t try to address everything, which is why I appreciate the comments from the FtQ tribe. In a paid edit, I go through each manuscript three times.

Storytelling Checklist

Before you rip into today’s submission, consider this list of 6 vital storytelling ingredients from my book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells. While it's not a requirement that all of these elements must be on the first page, they can be, and I think you have the best chance of hooking a reader if they are.

Evaluate the submission—and your own first page—in terms of whether or not it includes each of these ingredients, and how well it executes them. The one vital ingredient not listed is professional-caliber writing because that is a must for every page, a given.

Story questions

Tension (in the reader, not just the characters)

Voice

Clarity

Scene-setting

Character

Below are the first 16 lines of what would be the manuscript for the
opening page from one of John Locke's early books, Saving
Rachel (a Donovan Creed Crime Novel), formatted the way I do it here at
FtQ.

MAYBE IT ISN’T fair, but I blame Karen Vogel for what just
happened.

I mean, sure, I’d made the first move, and true, I’d plotted
her seduction with all the precision of the Normandy invasion. I baited the
hook with romantic candlelit dinners, private dining rooms, and elegant wines.
I’m the one who made all the promises, bought the clothes, the mushy cards, and
glittering jewelry.

But none of this would have happened if Karen Vogel hadn’t
been so … gorgeous.

We’re in Room 413, Brown Hotel, Louisville, Kentucky, 10:15
am. My twenty-something-year-old conquest lies on the bed watching me through
eyes like aquamarine crystals. I’m scrambling into my pants, tucking in my
shirt, but those piercing eyes freeze me in place, and I’m like a deer caught
in the headlights.

Karen rolls onto her side, props her chin on her fist, and
says, “You meant what you said, right, Same?”

Her toned, athletic body features long legs and a belly so
flat I can see two inches down the front of her panties, elevated as they are
between two perfect hips. It’s a good view, the kind you never get tired of,
and I get that feeling again, like I’m riding a lucky wave. I mean, I just banged Karen Vogel!

While this does well in the characterization and voice parts
of storytelling, and the tease of the opening line got me to read further, not
much happens after that, and the tease wasn’t enough to take me past the
musings of a lusty character. There's little tension, I didn't care that he had banged this woman, nor is
there a hint of “crime” as promised in the subhead.

A better opening

A few pages later I found the following. Give it a read and
a vote.

I’m in the parking garage, fishing in my pocket for the
keyless remote when I hear a crackling sound and—Christ!—something zaps my calf muscle from behind. I turn to see
what’s happened, and the next think I know, I’m rubbing the back of my neck
where it feels like someone stuck me with a hypodermic needle.

I’m groggy, but I feel movement and realize I’m in the back
seat of a stretch limo with two guys. The one on the left is a muscle-head;
looks like Mr. Clean on steroids. The other guy’s a well-dressed older man with
slicked-back gray hair. He’s wearing a black silk suit with vertical white
lines and a white tie. The voice in my head is saying, Oh shit, this is the real deal, and the voice is right. This is a
full--fledged gangster sitting across from me, and he’s just asked me
something. Unfortunately, my head is in a fog and I’m still reeling, so I can’t
quite make out what he said.

Trying to buy time to get my bearings, I say, “I’m sorry.
Who are you? What did you just say?”

“Your wife,” he says.

I look around. He’s
talking to me? His words seem to be coming from deep in a well. Did he just ask me about my wife?

While this narrative still dawdles a little more than I feel
it should, there were good story questions raised and it delivers on the
“crime” nature of the book. The thing about the bra size alone raised a story question: Why? Your thoughts?

"I'm mad at this book. Know why? Because it's one of the best I've read about crafting compelling novels, and it's telling me that I have to revise my own novel yet again. The examples are clear and unusually frequent. For example, you won't read pages of theory before being shown exactly what is meant by creating tension. If you're writing a novel you hope will sell to an agent, then to a publisher, and finally to a great many readers, Rhamey's realistic advice will help you.” Susan

Submitting to the Flogometer:

Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):

Comments

Flog the pros: John Locke

Today the flogee is the opening of a book by a
self-published author. Is he a pro? Well, the definition of “professional” is
“one that engages in a particular pursuit, study, or science for gain or
livelihood.” John Locke most definitely has done that.

He is the first self-published author to hit #1 on the
Amazon/Kindle Best Seller’s List. He is a New York Times best-selling author.
In the first 5 months of 2011 he sold more than 1,100,000 ebooks.

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type, etc.) there should be about 16 or 17 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page). Directions for submissions are below.

A word about the line-editing in these posts: it’s “one-pass” editing, and I don’t try to address everything, which is why I appreciate the comments from the FtQ tribe. In a paid edit, I go through each manuscript three times.

Storytelling Checklist

Before you rip into today’s submission, consider this list of 6 vital storytelling ingredients from my book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells. While it's not a requirement that all of these elements must be on the first page, they can be, and I think you have the best chance of hooking a reader if they are.

Evaluate the submission—and your own first page—in terms of whether or not it includes each of these ingredients, and how well it executes them. The one vital ingredient not listed is professional-caliber writing because that is a must for every page, a given.

Story questions

Tension (in the reader, not just the characters)

Voice

Clarity

Scene-setting

Character

Below are the first 16 lines of what would be the manuscript for the
opening page from one of John Locke's early books, Saving
Rachel (a Donovan Creed Crime Novel), formatted the way I do it here at
FtQ.

MAYBE IT ISN’T fair, but I blame Karen Vogel for what just
happened.

I mean, sure, I’d made the first move, and true, I’d plotted
her seduction with all the precision of the Normandy invasion. I baited the
hook with romantic candlelit dinners, private dining rooms, and elegant wines.
I’m the one who made all the promises, bought the clothes, the mushy cards, and
glittering jewelry.

But none of this would have happened if Karen Vogel hadn’t
been so … gorgeous.

We’re in Room 413, Brown Hotel, Louisville, Kentucky, 10:15
am. My twenty-something-year-old conquest lies on the bed watching me through
eyes like aquamarine crystals. I’m scrambling into my pants, tucking in my
shirt, but those piercing eyes freeze me in place, and I’m like a deer caught
in the headlights.

Karen rolls onto her side, props her chin on her fist, and
says, “You meant what you said, right, Same?”

Her toned, athletic body features long legs and a belly so
flat I can see two inches down the front of her panties, elevated as they are
between two perfect hips. It’s a good view, the kind you never get tired of,
and I get that feeling again, like I’m riding a lucky wave. I mean, I just banged Karen Vogel!

While this does well in the characterization and voice parts
of storytelling, and the tease of the opening line got me to read further, not
much happens after that, and the tease wasn’t enough to take me past the
musings of a lusty character. There's little tension, I didn't care that he had banged this woman, nor is
there a hint of “crime” as promised in the subhead.

A better opening

A few pages later I found the following. Give it a read and
a vote.

I’m in the parking garage, fishing in my pocket for the
keyless remote when I hear a crackling sound and—Christ!—something zaps my calf muscle from behind. I turn to see
what’s happened, and the next think I know, I’m rubbing the back of my neck
where it feels like someone stuck me with a hypodermic needle.

I’m groggy, but I feel movement and realize I’m in the back
seat of a stretch limo with two guys. The one on the left is a muscle-head;
looks like Mr. Clean on steroids. The other guy’s a well-dressed older man with
slicked-back gray hair. He’s wearing a black silk suit with vertical white
lines and a white tie. The voice in my head is saying, Oh shit, this is the real deal, and the voice is right. This is a
full--fledged gangster sitting across from me, and he’s just asked me
something. Unfortunately, my head is in a fog and I’m still reeling, so I can’t
quite make out what he said.

Trying to buy time to get my bearings, I say, “I’m sorry.
Who are you? What did you just say?”

“Your wife,” he says.

I look around. He’s
talking to me? His words seem to be coming from deep in a well. Did he just ask me about my wife?

While this narrative still dawdles a little more than I feel
it should, there were good story questions raised and it delivers on the
“crime” nature of the book. The thing about the bra size alone raised a story question: Why? Your thoughts?

"I'm mad at this book. Know why? Because it's one of the best I've read about crafting compelling novels, and it's telling me that I have to revise my own novel yet again. The examples are clear and unusually frequent. For example, you won't read pages of theory before being shown exactly what is meant by creating tension. If you're writing a novel you hope will sell to an agent, then to a publisher, and finally to a great many readers, Rhamey's realistic advice will help you.” Susan

Submitting to the Flogometer:

Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):